


dans le love game

by quietestfeeling



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beautiful Golden Fools, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietestfeeling/pseuds/quietestfeeling
Summary: He plays one of two roles in these games, the brother, or the lover.Title taken from Lady Gaga's 'Love Game'.This is un-beta'd so all mistakes are sadly mine.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	dans le love game

**Author's Note:**

> Potentially in universe for the multi-chap Jaime/Cersei fic I've been working on!

Whenever he’s away from her, Jaime thinks about the summer of ’09.

They were sixteen, freshly out of secondary school and onto sixth form in autumn. But for the following months they were to be free, even if just for a little while, away from the ghost of their mother, away from their father’s disapproving glare. For the following months they were to be together, the only people in the world.

Jaime would’ve been content doing nothing. He would’ve been content to roam the streets of every major European city with Cersei. To be able to take her hand, to kiss her, to hold her close to him in public with nobody the wiser about what they were to each other.

But Cersei likes her games. _The Queen and her Knight_ , she called it. She would dress herself up, innocent but suggestive. Inevitably, a man, some men, would take notice of her sitting at the bar, golden and glowing as she always is, and come to proposition her. She would demur, smile prettily, and be seemingly coerced to a rendezvous in a dark corner.

Enter Jaime.

He plays one of two roles in these games, the brother, or the lover.

As the brother, he would swoop in and scare off her potential suitor. _She’s sixteen_ , he would cry, and Cersei would stifle a snigger at the terror that came over the men, who were arrogant and bawdy just moments before. Neither of them cared to mention that he was just sixteen too.

As the lover, Jaime is allowed to make a scene. On certain occasions, when the gleam in his sister’s eyes tell him so, he’s allowed to get his hands dirty. Those nights, adrenaline runs white-hot and more frequently than not, they end up fucking against a wall behind some street they wouldn’t deign to walk any other time.

Either way, Jaime is the one who gets to have Cersei at the end of the night. Sometimes they fuck, frenzied and passionate and fast, panting into each other’s necks and marking up their backs with rug-burn and claw marks alike. Other times, when Jaime feels that he tires of the game, he seeks to punish his sister by fucking her far too slowly, with languid, agonising thrusts that raise her ire. _I don’t want to play games. I just want to be with you,_ he thinks. He pushes away the fact that defending her ‘honour’ got his cock hard, and sticks to gently squeezing her pale throat. Her green eyes glare daggers at him, but her cheeks are flushed with such a sweet pink that he can’t hold onto his resolve. In the end, she always wins.

One July in Prague, when dawn’s rosy fingers pry through the curtains, and they’re sweaty and sated on the bed, Jaime asks why the game is called ‘the Queen and her Knight’. “Aren’t princesses the ones who are rescued? Damsels in distress?” His sister rolls over onto her side to look at him.

“I am no princess.”

Gazing at her, painted rose gold in the light, Jaime concedes that Cersei looks every inch a queen, the closest earthly thing to a goddess. When she swings a slim leg over his body to straddle his chest, the weight of Cersei upon his heart makes him more content than he can bear. She moves up towards his face, and instinctively, Jaime’s hands bracket her hips and he digs his pinkies into the soft flesh of her arse.

“Don’t you think, sweet brother, that only a Queen is worthy of such a throne?”


End file.
